you come most carefully upon your hour
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Will figures it out. He doesn't handle it well. Hannibal is Hannibal. Oh and there is quotes from Hamlet cause CULTURE. Not Beta Read M/M


It wasn't really anything that told Will Graham what Hannibal Lecter was. It was an epiphany made of patchwork, little clues his mind had gathered here, there, and everywhere. Hannibal told the world on a constant basis who and what he truly was. In a way, the man was completely honest about it. One just had to know where to look and when to listen.

The realization that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper came to Will near the end of one of his sessions with the good doctor. There was no pressing case weighing down Will's mind at the time which was probably why he was able to finally work it out on his own. In the end, he just needed a moment without any sort of distraction or new horror yelling in his ear.

In retrospect, it was a terrible ending to such a pleasant conversation. Hannibal, because it was Hannibal now and not Doctor Lecter, was making the polite overtures of inviting him to dinner. As per usual, Will's appointment was Hannibal's last for the day so they were alone, and the doctor was going through his motions of closing up shop. Will was left to his own devices, which usually meant he read something or wandered aimlessly around Hannibal's office.

Staring out the window at the coming twilight made moist with an indecisive rain, Will knew in an instant that his closest friend was the intelligent psychopath he had been hunting for all along.

"You were supposed to be my paddle." Will said, his lips forming words though they tasted like ash to him. His throat felt too dry and his eyes burned. He didn't have the energy to commit to just any one emotion though, feeling adrift from this new horrible reality.

Burned out and made hollow by this new fresh hell, Will felt empty from it. Ignorance was truly bliss especially when you were being gutted out by the world on a constant basis. Alana didn't want him. Jack only needed to use him. Hannibal had been his last chance at something close to normalcy, a human connection he could pretend with, but life had never given him anything nice before, at least not for long. Why would it start now?

"I am…" Will heard Hannibal say somewhere off to his right. It didn't matter, not anymore. He couldn't…wouldn't be able to hide the truth from him. Will knew it was a futile gesture on his part. This knowledge was too heavy, too wounding, and too deep to keep to himself. He was bleeding out, and Hannibal hadn't even taken a drop from him yet for himself.

There would be blood. Will knew that as assuredly as he knew his own kind of crazy. Hannibal would take everything from him, even his life. It was only a matter of time at this point. All he could hope for was that it would be quick.

"You were supposed to be my friend." Will said because he felt like the sudden silence needed to be filled by one of them. His bone forts were falling apart, shattering in sharp shards all around his mind. He felt more than heard Hannibal come up behind him. He didn't bother to hide the shuddering that ran through his frame.

"I am that as well." Hannibal said, making Will want to laugh. Or scream. He wasn't sure which one he could pull off yet, both creating pressure in his throat. Shaking his head, Will turned to look at Hannibal, to let himself see everything in its entirety. His friend, his quarry, his killer, his imminent death.

A large hand was already at his throat, pressing down up on, Hannibal so quick Will had missed the movement. Will felt the air whistle out of his lungs and leaning into the grip upon him, hastening his breath's departure and denying its return.

OoOoO

His fingers baring down on flesh hard enough to leave behind bruises, Will met his eyes unflinching for once in their directness. The falsely calm blue grey gaze was a fractured kaleidoscope of emotion. Despair and misery resided there, yet strangely, no anger or bargaining could be found along wit it. There was an acceptance there, a quiet type of acquiescence. Will knew. Will knew and he was letting him know that he was in on the joke, the punch line Hannibal kept whispering to the world. That he was going to let Hannibal do whatever he wanted because he didn't have the strength anymore to stop him. That he was too wore down my the world to care.

In the end, Hannibal always knew he would win, but he hadn't expected his victory to be a sham. Will was a stray dog that everyone had taken a turn beating, and all he had done was get in his own kick. He was no better than Jack or anyone else who had hurt Will, intentionally or not. The only thing that made him special was that he was the last to do so.

His latest unkindness was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Stared into Will's sad eyes, Hannibal knew that he could do anything to this man now, and Will would do nothing to stop him. His hand was already pressed up against Will's throat, cutting off the man's air, and all Will did was lean into his grip, welcoming his end.

This triumph did not sit well with Hannibal, this death lacking any merit or art to it. Will wasn't food. He had always been better than that, meant for far more than the dinner table. Now he would just be dead, and Hannibal would be alone.

Hannibal's other hand went to Will's shoulder to steady him as Hannibal let go of the empath's throat. He kept it there, feeling Will lean into that as well as Hannibal slid an arm around his waist to pull him forward before Will was completely thrown off balance. Bowing his head, Will rested his brow against Hannibal's chest, shuddered under the gentle touches Hannibal placed to his sides and back until Will was being held fully in a serial killer's arms.

OoOoO

It was nice.

When was the last time anyone had been nice to him, Will wondered. It was his own fault of course. He wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but it was all sorts of wrong that he should be comforted by a killer. It was enough to make Will weep openly, silent yet controlled, the scream he wanted to let go stuck under his chin like a fluttering bird.

Tears staining his face, Will made a mess of Hannibal's tie, his salt life already making new patterns of moisture in the paisley. He wondered what Hannibal planned on doing to him, how he would take it out of him for ruining his clothing.

"Have you told anyone?" Hannibal asked, his touch still so gentle and light. It was horrible, to die feeling so loved even if it was faked.

"No. Of course not." Will said dully. "This is my secret."

"It is your design." Hannibal gently mocked, brushing stray curls out of Will's face. He dragged his knuckles across the apples of Will's cheeks to collect up his sorrow before tasting it for himself. Will tasted richly bitter, like coffee left to sit out too long on its own. Gently tilting Will's head back, Hannibal ran his tongue over his face, flat and wide as a jungle cat with its latest kill. Will whimpered at the treatment, but kept relatively still, a tremor or two making him shake in place.

When he was done and sated, Hannibal leaned back a bit to view the broken man in his arms. Will kept his eyes closed with his head bowed as if that would keep the monster who held him at bay, hiding in plain sight. Hannibal studied Will with fresh eyes, and knew he wouldn't kill him. No, the empath was too much of a delight to deprive himself of his company, the world made better by his presence in it.

"Come along now, my dear Will. I'm famished, and I am quite sure you haven't eaten today either." Hannibal said gently, tugging at Will to make the man follow him. There was no resistance or any attempt to escape on the profiler's part, the lack there of to be taken at face value. It made Hannibal look closer at Will, his hands going to the empath's face be force Will open his eyes.

The blank gaze that met Hannibal's own told the doctor that no one was home at the moment. Will had become overloaded by everything, his beautiful mind shutting down the thinking in a vain attempt to save him for himself. The doll of Will's body left in place was malleable, allowing itself to be led out of his office, and into Hannibal's car.

OoOoO

When Will opened his eyes, he didn't know where he was. Frankly, he was surprised to be awake at all, much less alive. The last thing he remembered was Hannibal tasting his skin, and the sensation of a warm tongue gliding over his cheek.

Everything came back to Will in a heady rush, making his body tense. He half expected to find himself strapped down to an operating table or some rigid flat surface on which Hannibal could butcher him at leisure.

It was a pleasant revelation to discover that not only was he not tied down or being restrained, he seemed to be rather comfortable at the moment. Cracking his eyelids, Will gathered from glimpses that he was lying in very large bed on top of deeply purple sheets. The room he was in was softly illuminated by some light source on the other side of him, casting the space in shades of creamy white gold. It didn't take long for Will to realize that he was in a bedroom that was not his own, one that was painted in bold colors with art tastefully decorating its walls, and the surfaces of dark, heavy looking bedroom furniture that looked more valuable than the entire contents of his house.

Making careful movements against what could only be silk by the material's give and sinful softness, Will found that he was dressed properly for bed in a nightshirt and boxers that were so not his own, and had no memory of acquiring. He could tell from the scents of aloe and sandalwood that he had been bathed recently as well, his hair still feeling damp from something other than sweat. Will also realized that he was not alone, another's heat source felt at his back, and reacting to his waking by moving closer to him.

"Oh good. You've returned. I was beginning to become concerned." said a voice that made Will curl up into a tight ball, pressing his knees close to his chest as he buried his face into his palms in attempt to escape. A hand ran up and down the taunt curve of his spine to find a resting place in his hair, Hannibal playing with Will's curls as the empath tried not to scream into his hands.

When Will's prayers to lose time again went unanswered, he made himself unfurl to sit up, and regard his strange company. Hannibal's hand upon him didn't leave, simply moving to accommodate him by cupping Will's face instead. The killer who stroked his cheek was dressed for sleep as well, looking freshly washed. Will tried not to think about Hannibal stripping him down or cleaning him off while he was basically catatonic.

"I find myself in a state of confusion, more so than usual…Why am I not dead?" Will asked hesitantly, his voice coming out brittle and cracked in tone from a too tight throat. He could keep the bruises Hannibal had left there upon it like some strange necklace made of painful onyx and throbbing amethyst.

"I think that would be a terrible waste, don't you?" Hannibal smiled. Will found that he could only stare back at the man in bed with him. The expression was made without being obscured by Hannibal's mask, maroon eyes alight from within with some sort of strange joy that made Will shudder and try to draw away. The hand on his face moved up to curl its fingers in his hair though, keeping him in place.

"I think that you are a killer." Will rasped out, leaning in to keep Hannibal from pulling on his hair who took it another step further. Will found his momentum taken advantage of as Hannibal easily pulled him into his lap, making him rest his head against a broad shoulder.

"Is that all, dear Will?" Hannibal chuckled, stroking Will's back in slow motions that both men found surprisingly peaceful.

"I don't want to think about it anymore." Will mumbled. Even though he hadn't been there in spirit, losing time left him feeling drained. Will felt limp and hollow against Hannibal, the man's warmth seeping comfortably into his own skin.

"Then don't. Go to sleep." Hannibal told him, shifting the both of them into recline with Will still held in place against him.

"If fishes were wishes…" Will said softly as his head was tucked under Hannibal's chin. Despite everything, Will felt safe. He knew he should feel disgusted with himself about that, about needing and wanting something like that in his life to find it with the Chesapeake Ripper.

"I'll will cast my net for you. Keep you safe." Hannibal made the promise into Will's curls, the man feeling the killer pressing his words and kisses into his dark crown.

"From you? Please don't lie to me. Just kill me instead." Will murmured, his fingers curling into Hannibal's nightclothes like they were an anchor, his solid something to keep him from going adrift. There were monsters out there after all, even in his dreams.

"From everything, even yourself." Hannibal said so kindly it brought tears to Will's eyes, making him press his face into Hannibal's chest to hide them. Hannibal sounded so sincere Will was almost willing to believe him. Maybe he did, just a little bit. "To sleep, perchance to dream."

" For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come." Will quoted back to have his head removed from hiding and tilted back. Thin lips were placed to his plush own, Hannibal keeping the kiss between them strangely chaste. He tasted like forgiveness and ruin, bittersweet and lovely. It made Will wonder who was forgiving whom or when it had even been asked for.

"Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear. When little fears grow great, great love grows there." Hannibal said as he parted their lips.

"Oh course, you know Shakespeare." Will grumbled at him as he tentatively licked his lips to chase after a serial kill's taste, much to Hannibal's amusement. Life was seeping back into Will, making him even more appealing. Hannibal knew he didn't want a pet. He ultimately wanted a partner, but would take Will in any state he could. Slow as it was, the empath's recovery of his defiance and inborn stubbornness appealed to Hannibal on so many different levels.

"Go to sleep, sweet Will. I'll keep the monsters away."


End file.
